Leave but One Cord Uncut
by Will Peterson
Summary: There's no turning back once Lucina finally tells Morgan that she is in love with him.
1. Stars

_These are just a few small ideas that were shuffling around my head for a while. I'm very fond of the Morgan and Lucina pairing so it's nice to write about them._

 _This'll come in 5 parts. As always, thank you for reading._

 **Scene 1: Stars**

"Lucina."

She turned her head and made out his form in the darkness. His face became clearer as he strolled toward her. "There you are. I had a hunch you'd be on this hill. I was right."

"Were you looking for me, Morgan?"

"Yeah – oh, but don't worry. There's nothing urgent going on. I was just curious as to what you do when the fighting's finished. It seems like you disappear from camp sometimes."

"I often search for places like this, where there's a clear view of the sky." She hesitated a moment. Then she gestured toward the spot on the grass next to her. "If you want, you can join me in gazing at the stars."

So then they were seated side-by-side. He'd plopped down a bit closer than she'd expected, actually, and at once it was difficult to resist looking at him; to be impressed with how near he was.

"Pretty," Morgan remarked obliviously, staring up at the stars. "But it's more than that, right? I bet they have a special meaning for you."

"I'm not sure what you have in mind when you say that, but . . ." She realized that she was glancing at him far too often, trying to figure out the direction of his eyes, to pinpoint exactly which star he was looking at. Quickly she fixed her eyes to the sky before he would notice. She didn't want him to catch her stare, for it would surely reveal too much. "Um, Lady Tiki told me that some people believe the stars are really the departed."

"Whoa. So people go into the night sky after death?"

"According to some."

"And are they looking down at us, the same way we're looking up at them?"

"Maybe? No one knows for sure. It's all theories and tales." A lump formed in her throat suddenly. Some of these stars appeared brighter than others. Some drew her eye more than others. "I wonder at times if my father and mother might be up there."

"Huh? But they're still –"

"The ones from my own timeline, I mean. The ones who died." She shook her head, dismissing the idea before it grew too heavy. "But why would they be in this sky? The parents I lost were of a different world, and the ones in this world are still alive."

Several moments passed into eternity, completely without comment. Perhaps she'd silenced him. A bit tired, she lowered her forehead to her drawn-up knees and sighed.

It was when she sensed a peculiar shift in the air that she looked up again. It startled her to find that Morgan had soundlessly moved closer to her. Their bodies did not touch, but he was so near, she'd only need to reach out a little bit. That soft smile on his face took up much of her field of vision.

"I think it's possible." His voice was warm – honey in audible form. That lilt sounded almost mystical. "I think they could be up there. Maybe they took a similar path to you and me. If people can travel through time, then why not stars?"

His words hung in the air for a while, like mist after a rainfall. Her eyes were still lingering on his face when she found herself rising to her feet. Standing up tall, she finally shifted her gaze from him to the sky. And then she lifted an arm and waved as widely as she could. Just in case her father and mother really were floating among the stars. Just in case they could see her.

If they could, she hoped it would make them happy to catch a glimpse of her.

She waved until her arm ached. When she eventually lowered it to her side, her head still swam with memories. "The stars," she said, "seem brighter here than they do in the future. Did I ever mention that?"

She hadn't looked behind her, but somehow she'd known that Morgan was still there.

"That's a beautiful thing to hear," he replied. "When you say nice things like that to me, it makes me want to say nice things back to you. I wish I was able to tell you what the stars looked like for me."

She turned to see him. He didn't return her gaze; his eyes focused on the sky. His expression was plain, giving away nothing. He appeared as though their conversation was still normal. Pleasant.

"You don't remember what the stars looked like in the future." Somehow that line came out sounding more despairing than Lucina intended.

He shrugged, at ease. "I don't mind not remembering. If the world truly was anything like you describe: death and doom everywhere . . ."

His voice trailed off, but she already understood. "Maybe it is better that you don't remember," she murmured.

"Maybe. That's how I like to think of it." He paused then. When he spoke again, his voice seemed more measured. "Actually, I've got to admit, sometimes I really get terribly curious about what happened to me. It makes me feel so unsure about things. Do I want to remember the future I came from? Do I really want to remember whatever evils drove me to go back in time?"

Lucina's hands had clasped together. She wasn't sure what for. "Are you so certain that it was evil that drove you? Maybe your motivation was something good. Maybe you just wanted to give your parents some company."

A short laugh broke from him. "Nice try, but you don't have to work so hard to cheer me up. I'm plenty cheerful on my own!" He was still staring at the stars, unaware of how she had already stopped doing the same. She couldn't tear her gaze from him. It felt as though that shining smile was meant for her, even though he was sending it toward the inky sky. "I wonder why I'm so cheerful. Maybe it's the amnesia, but I think mainly it's just something inside of me that makes me like this. But you . . . I'm not sure if that's something you have in you. So, I'm very glad to hear that you can look to the stars instead. We all need something that'll give us hope."

"You . . ." The sentence died at her lips before the entirety could make it out. Even that one word apparently didn't reach his ears, since he didn't react at all.

In her mind she was seeing shadows of her dark future. What a familiar state to be in. She often found herself remembering, the flashes of memory descending upon her involuntarily.

The initial feeling of being helpless was inevitable, even as she told herself that she was strong enough to handle her own mind, of all things. She had a coping mechanism for this – match every grim memory with a happy one, or two. Bury the despair with thoughts of love and hope. It would, and had to, always work.

He was right, that looking at the bright stars here was helpful for calming her heart. But if she had not failed to say that whole sentence, he would've heard her say: _You have become a source of hope for me, as well._

He probably didn't even know what he was doing. He thought of himself as a mere friend, acting nice. When he brought her a bunch of fresh-picked flowers, or wrote a simple song so he could sing it to her – he probably didn't know that he was creating memories that she would later replay in her head, as she lay on her bedroll, praying to keep the nightmares away.

She would think of her parents, her friends – but in the end, her mind always wound up turning to him. She wasn't sure when she had acquired that habit, but it was with her now, unable to be removed. He was amazing. He was her signal of optimism. Whenever it felt as though the gloom might consume her, he was the lifeline to which she held on strongest.

A yawn from him cut into her thoughts. "I think I'm going to sleep. Night, Lucina."

As he started to walk away, an impulse struck her heart like lightning. "Wait."

He stopped. He looked back at her curiously.

Gazing at him, with the way the shade and the moonlight played over his face, she found her nerves overwhelming. However, even stronger was the wave of affection swiftly rising within her. It was a powerful warmth, drowning out her doubts and leading her into the next few moments of time. Right now, she wanted to be close to him more than anything else in the world.

She had a feeling that after this confession, she would never again be able to stop thinking about him. But she wouldn't mind so much. He was worth memorizing.

"Before you go," she said, "let me give you a parting gift."

"Parting gift? Lucina, I'm only retiring to my tent for the night. I'm not leaving forev –"

His voice vanished when she stepped forward to close the distance between them. Her gentle hands came to rest on his shoulders. Her eyes searched him for any hint of alarm or unwillingness, but he met her gaze without trouble. And although they both held still, underneath her hands she sensed the anticipation within him. Reassured, she leaned down and brought her lips to his.

She imagined that she kissed a fragile little bird – a little bird with whom she was deeply enamored. She held herself more carefully than she ever had in her life, barely allowing the time of a breath to pass before she drew back.

In the night air, her face was so hot that she thought one might burn their hand by touching it. As for his face, it was harder to tell. She didn't know how to interpret those wide eyes – that stunned expression.

"Um," she said. "Well, good night."

Her head in a wild fever, she tried to walk away, but he stopped her quickly. "Wait."

She looked back at him.

"I want to give you a parting gift too," Morgan said.

He copied her earlier approach, placing his hands on her shoulders first. Hesitation flickered across his face, but it disappeared after a heartbeat.

She closed her eyes so she wouldn't see, only feel, his kiss.

They lingered longer this time, but it still seemed brief once they pulled apart. Without another word – without even looking at each other for more than a few instants – they turned to go their separate ways. Perhaps they both sensed that if they stayed here for much longer, neither of them would ever want to leave. They'd want to stay in this scene, in this moment of the night, like a pair forever frozen in a painting.

As she walked, Lucina felt on her shoulders the weight of a future very different from the one she normally thought about.


	2. Day

**Scene 2: Day**

"Lucina."

She looked to the entrance of her tent as her younger sister walked in.

Without preamble, Kjelle declared seriously, "I think Morgan is in love with me."

Lucina felt the distinct sensation of a piece of the world tipping over, as if a boulder somewhere had finally received the last push it needed to go tumbling down the steep mountain.

"Why do you think that?" Lucina asked.

Kjelle sat down nearby, making herself comfortable for this visit. For once, she wasn't wearing the entire set of her usual armor, so Lucina could actually see it when she shrugged her shoulders in response. "He came up to me earlier today and started asking a bunch of questions. He wanted advice on 'strategies for talking to a woman' and 'how to steal the heart of a princess'. I think he was approaching it in basically the same way he'd approach a tactical problem. I guess we all go back to our old crutches when we're facing a new problem."

"Steal the heart of a princess? And that's you?"

"Well, he didn't mention a name. He didn't even say if he was referring to an actual princess. But while he was talking, he kept giving me this sort of weird look. I don't know why, but looking at him, I just got the feeling that he probably meant me."

Lucina pictured Morgan's face in her mind. She didn't know what a "sort of weird look" was supposed to mean, but if Kjelle had her suspicions, Lucina was reluctant to dismiss them. She didn't want to distrust the judgment of her own sister. Not even if she wanted to trust Morgan as well. Not even if just last night he had gazed at the stars with her, kissed her and locked up her heart in the space of one breath.

"And what about you?" Lucina's tone was still steady. She hid how uneasy the prospect of unexpected competition made her. "Did you enjoy his attention?"

"Are you kidding?" If the sword-sharp edge in Kjelle's voice hadn't been obvious enough before, it certainly was now. "I'm _engaged_ already _._ How do you think I would feel having a different guy flirt with me? I should go back and challenge Morgan to a duel."

"No, no, this army needs to remain united . . ."

She'd delivered speeches about bonds and comrades so often that she could recite one to her sister automatically, practically without thinking about it. That left her mind a little too free to think of other thoughts. What was she going to do about this? Even as she talked Kjelle out of going for a duel, she began questioning if that was maybe something she should do herself.

No, she shouldn't have to duel Morgan, nor did she even want to. But Lucina did want to talk to him, at least.

Hopefully that wouldn't be an overreaction. What was she to him, anyway? She had cared for him for so long that she felt like they'd been together for ages, but in reality, she'd revealed her feelings to him only last night. In fact, she hadn't even stated them explicitly. They were supposed to have been implied.

When it came down to what actually happened, she had done nothing to hold onto him other than exchange two brief kisses. Maybe he hadn't read into them nearly as much as she had. Maybe she didn't really have the right to feel this instinctive hurt in her chest, as if he'd broken a rule that she had never even established.

But then, maybe he really was on the same page as her, and his talk with Kjelle had been innocent. He could be awkward sometimes, and give impressions that he didn't mean to give. In any case, if Lucina questioned him too much she may end up appearing crazy to him. She wondered if she should still go.

What was she thinking?

She was thinking too much, that was what. She was a princess and a warrior. She'd outlived a ruined world and hacked apart hordes of Risen by her blade. Talking to one boy ought to be child's play. And damn it, she should hardly care if he or anyone thought her crazy. She could make her own rules about what crazy even meant.

After Kjelle left, Lucina went on her own to Morgan's tent. The sun was very bright this afternoon, almost hurting her eyes as she walked across camp, but nothing could deter the energy thrumming though her – the spirit of being on a mission. When she reached the destination, even her hand seemed to be filled with a sense of purpose as it rapped on the tent flap.

Several moments passed without response. She called his name a few times but heard nothing.

Logically she should conclude that he wasn't in his tent at the moment . . . but something kept her feet rooted to the spot. No shift had happened in the scenery – not in the air, not the simmering sun, not the immobile tent – but something, something, must have changed. That sense of purpose was giving way to a sense of foreboding.

Setting concerns about rudeness aside, she carefully leaned over until her ear brushed up against the tent flap. When she held still, she could detect the sound of breathing. Quite loud, erratic breathing. No, it was sniffling.

"Morgan," she said.

No answer.

She sighed, and then summoned an unrelenting tone. _"Morgan."_

"Not now."

Finally, a response had come from inside the tent – and it replaced all her previous worries with new ones. Despite the shortness of his answer, she still noticed that his voice shook.

"Sorry," she muttered, and then barged straight into the tent. As she came in, he rushed to cover his face with his hands, but he wasn't fast enough. She saw it in time – the fact that there were tears running down his face. She'd already suspected as much, but nonetheless it sent a shock through her to see him huddled in a corner of his tent, sniffling and quivering like that.

 _This is the wrong picture._

Her mind always saw him as unstoppably cheerful. He was meant to be the dazzling daylight to her somber night. Who was he, if he wasn't a living ray of hope?

She shook her head quickly. Those were selfish thoughts to have. She felt upset to see him like this, but she needed to put aside her own distress to assist him with his.

She went to sit next to him. When she placed her arm around his shoulders, he stiffened, but then relaxed a moment later. With slow deliberation he shifted so that his body leaned into hers, and his head rested on her shoulder. She looked at him and couldn't help noticing that his face was flushed, his forehead damp with the exertion of crying.

A hundred questions were dying to be heard, but she kept silent, waiting patiently as his demeanor gradually calmed. It looked almost as if he was falling asleep. Her world seemed to stand still, to disappear in increments and reduce itself until there was nothing else but this place. There had never been anything but the space of this tent and the warmth of the afternoon and the boy she held now. It was a small world, and yet it felt large enough to hold everything in her soul.

"Heh." Morgan's voice eventually filled the quiet, although his eyes remained softly shut. "He asked me to stop crying about it. He said it didn't really matter. But I still can't stop this sadness."

"Who are you talking about?" Lucina mumbled.

"My father."

He released a colossal sigh. Lucina tensed, thinking he might start with tears again, but he merely kept talking. "I don't understand it. All my memories of Mother are clear. I'm sure I loved Father just as much, but I hardly remember a thing about him. Just that one tiny memory of him calling my name and smiling at me. It's better than nothing, sure, but it seems so little compared to how much I've probably lost. I've been trying so hard to remember, but I just can't. It's like grasping at thin air. I . . . I am failing him, Lucina."

"Don't say that." Her grip around him tightened. "No one, least of all your father, considers you a failure."

"I do."

"Gods, no . . . It's not your fault." Her mind searched for the right words to say to him. What would she want to hear if she were in his position? But in asking herself that, she was forced to consider a scenario in which she'd forgotten her own father. That treasure box of childhood memories, the cherished moments that had sustained her spirit during many dark years . . . She couldn't imagine forgetting them all. Her own horror ended up silencing her.

In the end, it was up to him to speak again. "Lucina, can you tell me about my father?"

His question pulled her away from her despairing thoughts. "I've talked so much about him to you already, I'm not sure if I could say anything new. I'd hate to disappoint you."

"Repeat it. Repeat everything. I don't want to forget a thing."

"Very well." Preparing for a long sit-in, she shifted her arm because it was going slightly numb. "The first time I met your father, I was a little girl and my parents had decided to bring me to a meeting of the Shepherds. A lot of the soldiers were in attendance, and a lot of them had brought their children with them too. I remember my first impression of him was . . ."

She tried to tell him everything she knew about his father, summoning all the memories she could. They welled up in her mind in a jumble of images. She talked and talked, and he listened, as her scattered recollections took them back and forth in time.

Finally, she stopped, her voice exhausted. She'd spoken so much that it felt as though a whole world of air had left her chest.

"I love you."

He hadn't moved, gave no warning at all, before making that declaration.

She was caught off guard. "Huh?"

His head had been resting on her shoulder for a long time, but now he finally moved himself so that he could look straight at her, face-to-face. "Why do you look so surprised? I thought you knew already."

"I'm afraid I don't see the logic in you saying 'I love _you'_ after I've spent an hour talking about the character of your father."

"Maybe I like the way you talk."

Gazing into his dark eyes, and seeing the focused way that he stared at her, caused her face to heat up intolerably. She had to look down, at her lap, away from him.

"Will you not say it back to me?" Morgan murmured.

"I . . . I don't even know if you mean it." She'd abruptly remembered the reason she came to his tent in the first place. She'd wanted to ask him about his conversation with Kjelle. But it seemed wildly inappropriate to bring it up now, a surely trivial matter compared to his family distress.

"Of course I mean it. What . . . ?" His question faded, incomplete.

She was still trying to think of a tactful reply when she felt his hand under her chin. His fingers were a bit clumsy, unused to performing this intimate gesture, but exceedingly gentle as he tipped her face up, so that their eyes met again. Apparently able to detect something from her expression, he said quietly, "Tell me what's troubling you."

"It's not important, Morgan."

"All of your thoughts are important to me." His mouth formed a determined frown. "I won't let you out of this tent until you tell me what's on your mind."

"Is that a threat?"

"Um. N-no, I guess not. I wouldn't want you to feel threatened by me . . ."

She winced. She hadn't meant to make him feel as though the tables had turned against him. "Look, I'll tell you, but it's really not a big deal. The original reason I came to visit you was because I wanted to tell you that Kjelle thinks you're in love with her."

With him so near, she could feel his jolt of surprise. "Why?"

"Something about a conversation you had with her. How to steal the heart of a princess? She was concerned you meant her." And Lucina was concerned about him attending to other girls when he'd kissed her only last night – but she decided not to mention this. She'd prefer to keep that thought to herself, even though he'd likely guessed already.

He blushed, but his eyes remained on her. "I was . . . left a little unsure of myself after last night. It was my first kiss, you know? At least as far as I can remember. Well, it's the first that truly counts. And I was kind of worried that I was getting out of my depth. I just, well, I figured we might start going places unfamiliar, and I feared disappointing you along the way. I went to your sister because she's close to you and I hoped that talking to her would give me a better idea of how to talk to you."

Lucina couldn't help raising an eyebrow at this. "I doubt you needed the advice. You didn't have to ask how to steal the heart of the princess because you've already done it. Also, you already seem to be fine with talking to girls."

He shook his head. "No, apparently I am not fine with it, since I gave Kjelle a false impression when I talked to her." He paused. And then, unexpectedly, a warm smile spread over his face. "You're right, though, that it was pretty dumb and unnecessary of me to go to her. You're here now, and I remember that being with you is the easiest thing in the world. Talking with you is like breathing."

Once again, her face grew hot, but this time she kept looking at him, without turning away. "Then I suppose Kjelle also misinterpreted the 'sort of weird look' you were giving her?"

"Huh? I have no idea what she could've meant by that . . . Oh, actually, I guess when I think about it, I might've looked afraid while we were talking. I mean, I was tackling a pretty nervous topic, and Kjelle in general has an intimidating way of carrying herself."

"You're saying that she mistook your look of fear for a look of love?"

He laughed with mild embarrassment. "Why not? There are times when fear and love can feel kind of similar."


	3. Drift

**Scene 3: Drift**

"Lucina?"

When she turned her head, her vision was filled with the clutter of shelves, glitter, souvenirs and hues of blue, with the midnight-haired Other Anna standing in the midst of it all.

"Can I help you look for anything?" the merchant asked.

"No, thank you. I've found what I was looking for already." In Lucina's hand she held a tiny wooden replica of her father. It wasn't a perfect likeness, but it was close enough that looking at it put a smile on her face. The little figure had caught her heart the moment she spotted it sitting in the window of the souvenir shop. She hadn't been able to resist slipping away from the battlefield to rush in here and obtain it. "I've found more than I was planning, actually. This is definitely enough." In her other hand she held a replica of the mask she used to wear – another gem that had attracted her at once.

"Hmm." Anna's index finger tapped thoughtfully at her face. "Are you sure I can't interest you in anything else? It's not every day that one gets to take a trip to the Bathrealm, after all. Who knows when you Shepherds will ever visit again?"

"Thanks, but these are all the souvenirs I need. Besides, I must return to the fight. I cleared the pack of Risen in front of the shop but they might have renewed their efforts by now. I can't leave my allies hanging."

It continued to amaze Lucina, how Anna seemed so undisturbed by the swarm of Risen that had ambushed the hot springs just now. Anna did mention that she was used to wild animals showing up, so perhaps this situation felt similar to her. Or maybe she was just very confident in the Shepherds' ability to dispatch the threat. In that case, it was quite flattering. "All right then . . . oh, but are you sure you wouldn't like this headband? It'd look great with that splendid blue hair of yours!"

When Lucina finally managed to get out of the shop, she hit the ground running, having caught sight of a new Risen right away. She drew her sword as she sprinted up the rocky slope, slashing the creature in half as soon as she was close enough.

While the downed Risen disappeared into smoke, Lucina scanned the scenery before her. Coming to the shop had taken her to high ground; she now stood on a rocky cliff that overlooked the collection of hot springs. Below, the ground was dotted with Shepherds and Risen, clustered into small match-ups. It was heartening to see that her allies were having little trouble fending off the enemies. This battle should be over with easily.

Lucina's eye was so accustomed to searching for Morgan's ever-present black coat that she was surprised when it took her a few minutes to find him. He was, unexpectedly, wading in one of the pools of water instead of standing on the rocky ground. And that figure next to him – Inigo. That had to be Inigo, with that vivid hair color. Really now, were they trying to enjoy the springs before the fight was even over? And why were they in the water with all their clothes on?

It felt as though a hammer had beat her heart – the moment she realized that the way they floated in the pool looked entirely too motionless.

Her first instinct was to run to them, but her own thoughts leapt in to stop her. _No. What are you going to do? You're not a healer._ So she raced down to the spring-grounds, and against her heart's desire, she moved in a direction away from the two of them. Towards everyone else. Pure instinct and adrenaline fueled her as she hurried here, there, screaming the names of healers and gesturing toward Morgan and Inigo's general direction.

She noticed some movement – colors and shapes heading toward where she had pointed. Good. But dear Gods, she was still in such a panic. Thousands of battles and thousands of scrapes with death had not readied her soul for this. Inigo was one of her friends and Morgan – everything. The thought of them possibly being gone was intolerable!

She couldn't go to see them just yet. A fresh pack of Risen sprang up out of nowhere, surrounding her quickly, so she had to stay where she was, just her and her sword hacking their way out of the dense crush. Her body moved on its own. Her mind was nowhere. Fear had carried it off somewhere indefinable.

Everywhere in her vision filled up with black smoke as Risen after Risen fell to her blade and – finally – the crowd thinned. A few times she noticed a Risen suddenly collapsing without her intervention. An arrow one time, a swift fireball another. Of course, there were other Shepherds around. She would see them clearly as soon as she finished panicking.

All this fighting, she thought, all this teamwork and effort would mean so little if even a single one of them didn't make it to the end alive.

The immediate area was cleared. It could've taken years, for all she knew. It had felt like forever. A wave of disorientation came and passed, and then her feet were taking her to the place where she'd spotted Morgan and Inigo. That particular pool had to be this way . . .

Several people were already gathered by the time she arrived. Morgan was there, in the center of them all. Inigo, next to him. Their clothes were wet from the spring, but they were both sitting up, eyes open. Alive. The relief nearly stole the breath from Lucina.

Morgan was rubbing his head sheepishly. "Okay, so it turns out that Operation Play-Dead-in-the-Hot-Springs wasn't such a perfect plan after all," he explained to the little crowd around him. "I thought that the Risen would find us before our allies did."

Among the allies present were Brady and his mother, who both looked disgruntled, their hands holding healing staves that had spent energy on trying to cure the uninjured. Brady seemed unsure whether to change his face into a smile or an even deeper frown when Inigo turned to him: "Oh, but thank you for the really motivated healing! Although, it turns out that having a bunch of healing spells cast on you when you're not hurt actually makes a guy kind of nauseated. You learn something new every day, huh?"

Both his parents knelt on the stony ground, huddled around him. Their eyes seemed tired. Perhaps Inigo was also more drained than he appeared, since he sat leaning against his father's sturdy figure.

It seemed that Inigo's father mumbled something then, but Lucina couldn't quite make out the words. She stood just a bit too far away. Nobody in the group had spotted her yet, as she had hung back amongst the stones and red-leaf trees, hesitant to join this familial scene. Besides, they were all so focused on each other.

"Yes, I'm sorry, Father," Inigo replied seriously. "I really didn't mean to cause you all so much worry."

"It was more of my fault," Morgan chimed in, "since I was the one who thought up that ruse."

"Sure, but I went along with it."

"You didn't truly think it was a great idea, did you? I think you only went along with me because you were worried I was upset, after I questioned if you were trying to hit on my mother."

"What?" Up until now, Morgan's father had been sitting still, his face pale, as if he was still getting over the shock of seeing his boy presumably dead. Lucina had taken note of that face, and thought to herself that she'd never seen him look that spooked in all the years she'd known him. But apparently Morgan's comment now jolted him into a revival.

Inigo chuckled at him, in a way that meant he was trying to put out a fire before it started. "Nothing to worry about. I'm not after your wife. I said I wanted to help Robin with her work and I ended up getting misinterpreted by your son, but I honestly meant nothing beyond that."

In fact, it was Robin's appearance that had struck Lucina the most, almost immediately upon arrival, to the point that it was still a bit hard to look at her. There existed a deeply painful element in seeing the master tactician, famed for her severe intelligence and cool head, suddenly looking so small in her large black coat. She sat next to her son, leaning into him. Her arms had been wrapped around his body all this time, as if she wanted to hold onto his very life, using her embrace to keep it from flying away. And those puffy eyes – had she been crying just moments before?

Since Lucina came to the scene, Robin had not said anything, but she didn't need to. Just looking at the other woman's flushed face gave Lucina a very good sense of her earlier fear.

Lucina had been scared as well, but watching the way that Morgan and Inigo's parents fussed over them now made her feel that she'd unthinkingly overstepped a boundary by worrying so much. She turned shy, and her feet began shuffling back, to leave these families alone. In her heart she wanted to join the group and give out warm embraces of her own, but if she did, no doubt she'd only end up feeling out of place.

The vivid leaves from the trees rustled in a breeze, as quiet as her retreat.

Much later, when the battle was solidly won and night painted the sky, the Shepherds retired to the lodgings that Anna provided them. What had looked to be a rather small hut from afar had turned out to contain a surprising amount of space, with all the rooms stuffed into the structure in such an economic fashion that the building itself almost seemed to be bragging about it.

Lucina wasn't sure how late it was. Probably too late to still have a lantern burning in the corner of her room, but if she couldn't sleep anyway, then why not enjoy a bit of light? Maybe some people wouldn't see much of a difference between lying awake in the dark and lying awake in a dim orange glow, but she could appreciate it. A lit lantern was like a little friend who soothed and signaled peace.

A mild knock came on the door.

How startling, that someone would still be awake at this hour. Lucina got up and opened the door.

"Lady Olivia?" Lucina said upon seeing who was there. She almost blurted out "Lady Inigo's mother" but caught herself just in time.

The pink-haired woman stood with her shoulders hunched as usual. Inigo often mentioned that he was actually shyer than his mother, but Lucina found that hard to believe. "Um, hello. Is this a bad time to visit? I was just walking by and noticed you had a light on in your room, and I was meaning to speak to you anyway. But I would understand if this is a bad time."

"It's not a bad time. I'm going to be awake for a while, I think." Lucina invited her into the room, where they both comfortably sat down.

"I might be awake for a while too," Olivia commented. "There's no reason in particular; I guess I can just be a night owl sometimes." She blushed suddenly. "Oh, but this isn't really what I came here to talk to you about. I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"I don't mind. Talk all you like."

"How nice of you. Well . . ." She lowered her head and fidgeted a few moments before speaking again. "I wanted to say thank you. You called for help when you found the boys in the water. You reacted so quickly, Maribelle and her son were able to reach them in a flash."

Lucina rubbed her head in puzzled sheepishness. "Um, thank you. But you know I didn't really save them, right? Inigo and Morgan were only pretending to be hurt to trick the Risen."

"Yes, I know. But it's the thought that counts. Just seeing the way you stormed onto the field and shouted like a madwoman for the healers, was amazing. I felt shocked and moved at the same time!"

Had Lucina actually looked that wild? Her face began to heat up, and for a second she wondered how visible the red would be in the lamplight.

Olivia's smile, however, was beaming with sweetness. "I just wanted to say: it's wonderful, Lucina. It's wonderful to know that someone cares so much."

They chatted for a while, but their sentences remained brief after that point. At first Lucina thought that Olivia must be a difficult person to talk to, with her flighty shyness. Eventually, though, Lucina realized that it was she, herself, who was being difficult. Her mind felt uneasy with this scene, and so it kept wandering away.

After a while, Olivia said she was going back to her room to sleep, so they said their good-byes and the other woman exited. Lucina was left alone once more.

She lay down again, shut her eyes, sighed, and let the thoughts swirl around her head.

Olivia had a kind soul. Hearing her words of appreciation had truly made Lucina happy. Ever since she joined her father's army, the Shepherds had been so friendly with her, and done so much to make her feel like she belonged. Even with the unknown future looming ahead, moments of companionship like this visit helped tremendously with lifting her depressed spirits. It was just too bad that she wouldn't always have this group of friends.

She opened her eyes again so that she could look at the two souvenirs she'd placed on the tiny bedside stand. The mask and the figurine of her beloved father. It was feeble sentimentality that had driven her to purchase those two pieces, knowing that one day, they would be all she would have to help her remember this fleeting time with the Shepherds.

She'd made the mistake, once, of telling her father that she intended to disappear after the war ended. He had despaired at the thought of losing her and insisted that she stayed. He and her mother both needed their daughter, he said. Don't go.

Seeing him upset had shaken Lucina so much that she agreed, and promised she would stay. She just wanted to cheer him up. She just wanted to return the smile to his face. To this day, he still believed that she was going to keep her promise. She never told him otherwise. And she never mentioned her plans to anyone else.

It was really going to hurt, when the day came that she would break her promise and sneak away from his side anyway.

But that was how it had to be. No matter what her loving, foolish, idealistic father said on the issue, the truth was that Lucina didn't belong in this era. She had known that from the start. The only Lucina that was meant to be in this time was the baby girl back at the castle. The girl who was her, but not truly her.

Without question, once their mission was complete, Lucina was going to leave.

Quick pain shot through her heart. She pressed her fists to her chest in a futile effort to suppress it. Hang on, she told herself. The hard part had not even arrived yet. Don't fall apart now. Ah, it felt bad, it felt so terrible to keep this secret to herself, but surely she could handle it. She'd been in half a panic ever since she arrived in this unfamiliar era, but she'd been controlling it all along in order to remain strong. Robin even commented earlier that she never noticed how great Lucina's fears really were. That was good. She wanted to be good at hiding that sort of thing.

Hiding one more thing really should not be so difficult.

And yet – while staring at the two wood figures, she saw that they looked ready to splinter at any moment. The steam from the springs can't have been kind to them. Or maybe they were fine, and they only looked flimsy in comparison to the weighty job she was trying to impose on them.

She was accustomed to feeling that she belonged nowhere, but all of sudden, that sensation was crushing her much more strongly than normal. She shut her eyes. Breathe, she reminded herself, and perhaps try to get some sleep. Get away from these thoughts.

The words jumped into her mind, completely unbidden: _He is a time-traveler too. Maybe when I disappear, he'll be willing to come with me._

She was used to belonging nowhere, but she wanted to belong with him. And unlike with her parents, perhaps a life with him would actually work. Besides which, if she was really honest with herself, she knew that after seeing his apparently lifeless body in the water today, there was no way she could live without him. Not if there existed a spark of hope for living with him.

Possessed with new energy, Lucina got up and exited her room to head toward Morgan's. She hesitated to approach him earlier today, when she saw his family around him, but now she felt as though she had the right to seek him out. Why not? She loved him. She wanted to visit his room and be with him in this moment.

And she wanted to stay with him forever.


	4. Game

**Scene 4: Game**

"Lucina."

Despite the soft grass underfoot, Robin must have heard Lucina walking towards her. She had turned her head to see Lucina's approach and greeted her with that single word, spoken in complete business-like fashion.

Lucina stopped in front of the tactician and greeted her in return: "Robin."

They had previously arranged to meet in front of the barracks at this time, and Lucina was glad to see that the other woman had indeed shown up. The upcoming task was of vital importance. Lucina would've been steamed if Robin had attempted to avoid her – but at the same time Lucina probably would have understood it. Evasion would be a normal reaction, after their earlier conversation in which Lucina had questioned why Robin spent so much time loitering around her father's tent, and how did she always find another excuse to be with him, and she really ought to be more careful about how she behaved in front of a married man, or else.

Robin had given the excuse that the army tactician couldn't help needing to meet with the leader all the time. Fair enough, Lucina supposed, but that didn't mean the tactician couldn't take advantage of all this time to gradually pull the leader into a seductive trap. As Chrom's loyal daughter, she needed to make sure it didn't happen. She had lost her family once, and now that she had regained it, she was certainly not going to see it ruined again – not in any way.

Well. At any rate, Robin was here. At least she could keep her word in that respect. But that didn't mean Lucina would lower her level of suspicion.

"Thank you for letting me follow you again today," Lucina said.

Robin shrugged. "If this is what it takes to make you trust me, I'm all for it."

"So what will you be doing first?" The weather this morning was exceptionally pleasant, cool with a nice breeze in the air. Lucina hoped that they would not be leaving this in order to stare at crinkled maps inside a stuffy tent all day.

"I've got an appointment." Robin started walking, so Lucina followed after her.

"Who are you meeting?" Lucina couldn't help it; her voice came out sounding like a dagger's jab. "Is it my father? Another strategy meeting?"

"No," Robin answered casually. "I'm not seeing your father. I _am_ going to talk about strategy, but it will be with someone who's just a bit more precious to me."

Based on that, Lucina assumed that Robin meant her husband.

Lucina's plans ran into a stuttering block when the two of them approached a small hill with a large tree at the top. Even from a distance, and even though he sat in the shade of the tree, Lucina could tell who was there almost as soon as the hill came into sight. That form in that familiar black coat couldn't be mistaken.

Of course. Lucina should've seen this coming, now that she thought of it. The problem was that she tended to think of Robin more as the army tactician, and less often as Morgan's mother. Somehow it had slipped Lucina's mind that she might, at some point, need to explain to the love of her life why she was doggedly tailing his mother with a wary gleam in her eye.

Morgan clearly hadn't expected to see her, either. Confusion blanked out his face when Robin walked up to him with Lucina in tow. Lucina looked back at him, nervousness making her head into a muddled mess, and this silence continued for what seemed like days. It seemed he was waiting for her to speak first. She really, really hoped that her face would somehow communicate everything, because she couldn't think of anything to say.

"Hello, Morgan," Robin said cheerfully. "Ready for today's game? I see you've got the board set up already. Nice." She sat down opposite him, on the other side of the game board that lay in the grass. "Let's see if today your strategy can come close to beating mine."

"Um," Morgan replied. His eyes flickered to Lucina, who had remained standing where she was, as an awkward spectator. "Can I ask why Lucina is here?"

Lucina opened her mouth to speak, but failed to make a sound.

"Oh, don't mind her," Robin said. She talked as if commenting about the weather. "I'm letting her follow me around for a while so she can make sure that Chrom and I don't suddenly tumble into a passionate affair with each other. But don't be concerned, dear. She has assured me that she'll be quiet and polite and won't interfere with my work. Now then, shall we play?"

That was probably not what Morgan was actually worried about.

He glanced tentatively between his mother and Lucina, his head turning back and forth a few times, before deciding which one of them to address. "Mother, I'm sorry, but please excuse me for a bit."

He looked back at Lucina. She had still not moved from where she stood. She must appear as a frozen statue to him and Robin, but in her mind's eye, she could picture herself frantically stumbling through a foggy forest at night, searching for the right words. Never before had speaking to Morgan been so difficult – and this feeling only worsened when a shadow of despair crossed over his face. At once, she hated seeing that expression on him.

"Lucina," Morgan said. "What are you doing? Is it true that both our parents' marriages are in danger?"

 _Please smile again,_ she thought desperately, for she had never meant to make him upset. She longed to tell him that he had nothing to fear, but it would be tough to say those bold words to him when she was right in the midst of tracking his mother's steps. She could hardly tell him to ignore a looming threat when she, herself, was taking it so seriously.

"Lucina," Morgan repeated, his tone entreating her for a reply, but she remained too shamefaced to produce any words.

"Morgan."

Up until this point, Robin's voice had always been light and informal, as if she saw this as just another sunny day of her sunny life. Now, however, she spoke her son's name with a definite, commanding weight.

He turned his head to look at her again. Robin was the very picture of calmness. "You have nothing to worry about, Morgan. I'm just indulging the princess's imagination for the moment. You and I both know the truth: I love your father. I have eyes for no one else, least of all Chrom."

Lucina just couldn't help it. She couldn't stop herself from bursting out, "What do you mean, 'least of all'?"

At least that terrible distress was off Morgan's face now, but she didn't want to think about how her own face appeared to the two staring at her. The words, suddenly mad and free-flowing, were surely contorting her appearance. "Are you insinuating that my father is less attractive than the average man? How could you say such an absurdity! You're with him all the time; I can't believe that you would be so oblivious to his charms. He is gallant and wonderful in a way that is unparalleled by other men. Your indifference is beyond insulting!"

Though Robin wore a friendly smile, somehow her face and her voice both seemed cool as snow. "I thought you did _not_ want me to fall for Chrom."

"Wh-what? Ah, that's right. I don't. Except I do? I want you to appreciate him! You need to be aware of how great he is. Oh! Except you really shouldn't, too much!"

Why was it that she could never avoid looking like a madwoman in front of others? It didn't help that Robin continued to sit there, at the spot by the game board, with total composure.

In her befuddlement, Lucina turned to Morgan. "Speak to me. Help me puzzle this out. Why do you think your mother hasn't fallen for my father?"

"Ah . . ." He scratched his head as he thought of an answer. His face was a bit red. She was already regretting dragging him into this mess. "I'm not sure. I'd rather not dwell upon it. Actually, I'm really glad that my mom never married your dad, because if she did, I guess that would make us related. And then we wouldn't have fallen in love and gotten engaged. At least, I hope we wouldn't have."

To hear about how much he treasured their love, so much that he didn't want to consider any alternate fates, made her want to melt into sweetness. She got to enjoy this feeling for precisely one second before Robin's head whipped around and Lucina was cringing under the woman's focused gaze. "Did he say that you two are engaged?"

Morgan's eyes widened, startled. "Didn't you know, Mother? I thought Lucina already told you."

Lucina sighed in a futile effort to breathe out some of her embarrassment. It was true that she had proposed to Morgan recently. And since she was the one who'd done the asking, it was more or less assumed that she would also be the one to tell his parents about it.

She had truly meant to do that sometime. She'd promised Morgan she would. But she kept delaying the moment, because every time she imagined approaching his parents and telling them that she'd essentially stolen his hand right from under them, she felt as scared as a child.

She hadn't admitted this issue to Morgan because she saw no reason to trouble him about it. She'd been certain that she would naturally get over the fears at some point. Just not this soon.

"So you two are getting married," Robin said. "This should be interesting."

Lucina could only hope that after many years of having this woman as her mother-in-law, there would come a time when Robin's expressions weren't utterly smooth and unreadable to her. Then again, considering her future plans, she might not end up seeing Robin all that much. Still, that didn't mean she wanted to ruin this current moment.

She coughed awkwardly. "Um, I had a speech prepared, Robin. I am in love with your son –"

"Is there anything in this speech that I don't already know?"

"Well . . . since you already know that we're engaged, I guess not."

"Don't give her a hard time, Mother," Morgan mumbled.

"No, it's all right," Lucina said to him. "I can handle this." She honestly did feel stronger with him around. Maybe not as cool as ice, but at least assured enough to get though this situation.

Robin's tone seemed a tad softer this time, but she was still far from going easy. "You've done this in an odd order, haven't you?"

"I didn't plan to ask Morgan first, but it ended up that way. Um, I just got lost in the rush of that particular moment and –" She returned to cringing when Robin raised an eyebrow. The rest of her explanation came out in a hurry. "And I ended up proposing to him on the spot, and since he's already said yes, I guess it's a bit too late to ask his parents for permission to have his hand. So, I apologize that I'm not asking you so much as simply telling you. But Morgan . . ."

 _Morgan said that he would still marry me in any case, even at the cost of you, if it came down to that._

It wasn't until this exact instant that Lucina finally realized what a significant statement that was, coming from him.

"I hope," Lucina said, changing tracks, "that you will eventually forgive me for what I am doing right now."

"You mean, accusing me of trying to seduce your father?"

"Uh, yes, that too. I was actually referring to breaking the news of the engagement out of the blue. But I will have to eventually apologize for this too . . ."

"And also that one time you attempted to kill me."

"Y-yes, but I thought you had already forgiven me for that one."

"Oh, I have," Robin replied in a chipper tone. "And if my son really loves you, then I'm sure that when the time comes, I will forgive you for today as well. So don't fret."

Out of the three of them, Robin was the only one who didn't carry an air of awkwardness when the board game finally began.


	5. Flowers

_This is the last part. Thank you very much for reading. It truly means a lot to me._

 **Scene 5: Flowers**

"Laurent."

The mage had been kneeling in a field of flowers, but upon hearing Lucina say his name, he turned his face away from the vivid blooms and looked toward her instead. "Lucina. It's pleasant to see you."

His eyes, as always, half-hid in the shade of his wide-brimmed hat, but the lower half of his face was awash in the orange brilliance of the setting sun. The contrast presented a slightly unsettling sight. But then, Lucina had been friends with him for years, so she was more or less used to it by now. "It's nice to see you too."

"Did you need me for anything, Lucina?"

"No, I was just taking a walk and happened to run into you here. The flowers are lovely, aren't they?" Standing in this expansive field, she found it hard to notice much else. The two of them were surrounded by an ocean of the little blooms, which looked even prettier bathed in the lavish sunset light. "It's nice to see a place so full of life, in the midst of all this war and chaos."

Laurent nodded. "Indeed. The fact that our army will soon have to march on, away from this charming location, poses quite a regrettable predicament, but I suppose this situation is the type for which souvenirs are intended."

She saw that he grasped a few picked flowers, holding their stems delicately between his fingers. "Going to bring a gift for your wife?"

"Yes. My mother recently taught me a spell that prolongs the fresh appearance of unrooted plants for considerably longer than the typical span of time, so I'm giving it a try. These should brighten our tent for a while yet – assuming I manage to perform the spell correctly. It doesn't appear too complicated, but one can never be quite sure on a first attempt."

Lucina glanced again at his hand, this time registering the fact that it was bare, devoid of the usual glove he wore. Aside from that, however, she saw no sign of magic at work, no aura of energy or light. "Are you in the middle of performing the spell right now?"

"It is the slow-acting and hard-to-notice kind. To be honest, I'm a bit worried that these flowers will start to wilt before the enchantment has settled." He shrugged then, as if brushing off the thought. "But what are you doing, simply standing here? You were taking a walk, were you not?"

"Yeah, I was. Well . . ."

"If I may join you? I was meaning to speak with you anyway."

"Oh. Of course."

Like most of the children of the Shepherds, they had seen each other often while growing up. Childhood was filled with visits where they'd gone together on walks like this. If Lucina looked back into her memories, she could envision a gallery of weather and settings that they'd encountered during their young adventures – sunny skies, cloudy skies, dust lands, grass fields. And all of these scenic images shared one trait: the presence of her companion. As with all her longtime friends, she could recall the way his appearance had evolved over the years she'd known him.

Now, however, their dynamic was different. She knew it for sure, even if the fact had so far gone unmentioned between them. Being around him no longer created an easy peace.

Nothing she should complain about. After all, she had brought the change herself, through her own actions. And for a very good reason. Still, though . . . As they walked, she kept silent, feeling too self-conscious to simply bring up whatever conversation topic wandered into her mind. Too self-conscious to even look at him, really. The few times she glanced his way, her eyes landed not on him, but rather on the few fair flowers he held in his hand. Their significance tugged at her thoughts, reminding her of the incredible path his life had taken.

"Hey," she said. Despite his claim that he wanted to speak to her, he hadn't said a word so far. Her curiosity outweighed her restraint eventually.

"Yes?"

"I, uh . . . How is the little bouquet?"

"Coming along well, so far as I can perceive."

She couldn't tell at all, but she rolled along with him. "Good. I admit, I'm surprised that Miriel would know a spell to preserve fresh flowers. It doesn't seem like the sort of subject that would interest her."

"Mother can display an unexpected range in her interests, on occasion," he remarked. He spoke fondly of her. Though their journey through time had been treacherous, he remained glad that it had given him the chance to get to know his mother better. "But you would know a thing or two about being surprising, wouldn't you?"

Lucina's hands clenched into nervous fists. Evidently, the tactician's coolness was rubbing off on the man who spent so much time with her. "You know, it is unlike you to be so oblique. I already have a good idea of what you intend to say to me, so you may as well say it."

He appeared caught off-guard. This, in turn, startled her, because she didn't know why he would react that way. "I had not realized that you wanted to discuss it so urgently. Forgive me for behaving in such a leisurely manner."

"It's not _urgent,_ actually –" Lucina paused, unsure of how she wanted to finish that sentence. Surely things had never felt this awkward between them when they were younger, right?

Then again, maybe the awkwardness was generated entirely from her side. Perhaps she had only imagined Laurent's earlier coolness, because now he looked quite warm, with his sudden smile catching the sunlight. "Well, first things are first. I should offer you congratulations for your engagement to my son."

Most of the army had heard the announcement by now. A blizzard of beaming faces had already offered her their best wishes, but hearing the words in Laurent's courteous voice was something special, given his closeness to the situation.

"Thank you," she answered, pleased to feel the block of ice in her chest beginning to thaw. "You seem to be taking it well. I was worried you would think I'm strange."

"Strange? For what reason? Because of Morgan?" Laurent's smile turned wry. "Given who I have married, I am hardly in the position to criticize someone else for a time-travel romance."

Lucina remembered the chaos that had ensued after Robin and Laurent announced their plan to marry. The bafflement of the whole army had not seemed funny at the time, but it did now. For the most part. "Sure, but even if you know it in your head, your heart cannot help but feel protective, right? Everything is different when the circumstances involve your own child."

"He may be my child, but he is also an adult – nearly our age. He's capable of making his own choices."

The Laurent she knew growing up would have jumped to analyze every aspect of their quirky situation, possibly turning the discussion into a monologue while pondering the implications of a marriage between two travelers from different times, periodically pushing up his glasses with his fingers along the way. She found it interesting that his manner was now so serene. The man who strolled through the field alongside her, blossoms in hand, must have been mellowed by his marriage and fatherhood.

For his sake, she was glad. If he hadn't picked up this ability to be at peace, he would likely still be driving himself crazy over the impossible question of Morgan's origin.

Laurent had once admitted to her, during another of their walks, that he doubted a whole human lifetime would be enough to even begin speculating about where Morgan may have come from. The puzzle proved itself especially complicated, considering that their group's arrival in this timeline probably caused the creation of many new ones.

Morgan's history was riddled with so many blank spots, unable to be filled due to his amnesia. He did not usually think of himself as such, but in some ways, he really was a lost child – a tiny particle thrown into an infinitely vast pool of worlds upon worlds. But that did not define him. Lucina knew that what mattered most about him was his kindness and his inspiring personality and his bright mind, the pieces of who he was. She could love him even if his background stayed entirely foggy. And she bet that his parents felt the same way.

"Oh," she murmured.

"I'm sorry; what did you say?" Laurent said.

"Nothing."

He didn't push it. One of the benefits of knowing each other this long was that silence, even for fairly large stretches of time, could be acceptable.

Her decent mood was going down again. The reason she had quietly moaned into the cooling evening air was because she realized something about Laurent's new tranquility: she was almost certainly going to end up breaking it.

Morgan's face popped into her mind. He was lovely. He had always been, and he'd looked especially so when she met up with him hours after that bizarre board game. It had been just the two of them that time, standing in the shade of the wide tree, without Robin or anyone around. Merely seeing Morgan had given Lucina's heart the sensation of being squeezed. "I fear that I've made a fool of myself today," she'd muttered to him in a quick voice.

"The conversation could've gone better," he admitted with a mild laugh. "But I don't think that scene was as bad as it felt in the moment. It's not like Mother started shouting at you or anything. Everyone got out without a scratch."

"Morgan . . . are you still . . .?"

"Of course I am."

He was still planning to disappear with her after the war, just as he'd promised.

"Look at me," she implored. "Do you seriously think this is worth it?" She did not need to warn him that he was rarely, if ever, going to see his parents again if he followed her down this uncertain path. He knew.

"You're determined to leave, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"I'm determined to stay with you, wherever you go." He looked at her with bold fire in his eyes, as if he would gladly spin out the rest of his days without ever tearing his gaze away from her. As if he could endure any amount of pain just to be with her.

The face that had made her believe in his commitment remained burned in her memory ever since. For now, though, Lucina shook her head to dispel it, trying to return to the present moment. Notice the grass, the sunset, the bespectacled father walking beside her.

She asked Laurent, "Are you still planning to go on that expedition around the world, after the war ends?" In their talks, he sometimes mentioned wanting to go on a journey, in hopes of meeting his mother's intellectual standards.

"Yes. Robin continues to voice concerns about being away from Ylisse for an extended period, but I am confident that given enough time, the post-war work will settle down enough that the Exalt will not need her as often. We'll be free to travel. We were planning to take Morgan with us, actually, but in light of recent events, I think it more likely that he will travel with you, instead."

She tried not to let him see how that comment disconcerted her. So, Laurent guessed correctly that she intended to travel. But did he (or Robin, for that matter) know that she was also planning to sever all ties along the way?

The children from the future had discussed very little about their individual plans with each other, but Lucina had some good guesses as to what each person was doing after the war. Some of them intended to vanish, like her, but some of them planned to stay connected with their families from this time. Though Lucina may disagree with them, she did not blame the ones who chose to make themselves a part of this world. She understood. Laurent, in particular, had an exceptional circumstance, being married to a woman of this era.

"Are you sure you're okay with me marrying Morgan?" Lucina blurted out. The passing thought of marriage, plus the guilt she felt at what she was eventually going to inflict upon Laurent and Robin, had made her ask.

"I was under the impression that I had already confirmed my approval."

"Yes, and I trust you. But I just want to make sure. You needn't hold back your true feelings for my sake, you know." She thought something in his shaded eyes flickered at that statement, but he didn't speak up, so she pressed on. "If you have any doubts about Morgan and me, you can voice them now, so I can clear them and hopefully give you some peace of mind." _At least for now._

"My mind is perfectly at peace in regards to this matter."

"Really?"

"He is my adored son, Lucina. I am happy with all that makes him happy."

To that, Lucina said nothing.

Laurent stopped walking suddenly. Seeing this, Lucina halted too, and watched as he looked at the flowers held in his ungloved hand. Whatever had made him pause, apparently turned out to be nothing, because after a moment he nodded in satisfaction. The blooms were still coming along as expected.

"I bet Robin will be impressed with your work on that spell," Lucina commented.

He looked at her then. He wore a peculiar expression, closed-off, like a shuttered window. And yet it possessed a definite focus, as well, compelling her to keep looking back at him. They held each other's gaze for an awkwardly long time, until he abruptly cut the tension by beginning to laugh.

"What?" She was dumbfounded.

"Sorry." He composed himself. "Ever since I heard of your engagement, I've been considering whether I should mention it to you. I think I will. No harm in it."

"Mention what to me?"

"I used to dream of marrying you, myself."

In the moments between when he said the words, and when their meaning finally sank in, the very air around them seemed to shift. The world teetered on the cliff's edge, and though it soon regained its balance, everything looked to her a bit different than before.

Her answer ended up as: "I didn't know."

"I'm not surprised to hear that. I expended great effort to hide my feelings from you. Actually, wait, I take that back. I _am_ surprised. I always felt as though you could see right through me. Perhaps that was only a figment of my imagination, however."

"It must have been," she replied, faint with amazement at how the conversation had turned. "I never saw through you. I never imagined that you wanted me as anything more than a friend. How long . . . ?"

"The majority of our childhood."

"So many years? You never told me!"

Out of the blue, his free hand jerked upwards toward his oversized mage's hat. However, a second later he caught himself and lowered his arm again. Watching that aborted action startled Lucina almost as much as his confession. It had been years since she'd seen that gesture. He used to compulsively remove his hat around her, as a sign of respect to the princess. She thought the too-formal habit had been long buried under their established friendship.

"In all those years that I watched you with silent admiration, it never occurred to me to tell you how I felt," Laurent said calmly. "I am a common man and you are an exalted princess. In my perception, our incompatibility was obvious." He paused. Lucina thought that he was taking a moment to reflect in somberness, but then she noticed the slight shaking of his body and realized he was stifling another bout of laughter. "Clearly, my son never had the same reservations as I did."

She threw her hands up in the air, unable to believe what she was hearing. "Laurent, have you ever once heard me talk about station? I only care about what's in your heart, not your parentage! If you had just told me . . . well, I'm not sure how I would've reacted, but I certainly wouldn't have dismissed your feelings as if they were nothing."

"Yes, I realize that now." His voice, his mannerism, everything about him gave off an air of serenity. His revelation about Lucina had come too late, but not because she had found someone else – but because _he_ did. After their group's arrival to this timeline, he ended up falling for Robin, and he showed no regret about the unexpected way his fate had changed.

Yet Lucina felt guilty anyway. It seemed like her royal status, which she had not chosen, had caused her to unknowingly rob Laurent of his confidence. It had returned to him by now, clearly, but the chances of the past were still lost.

He must've guessed her thoughts from her expression, or from the way her shoulders sagged. Determined to make his current feelings known, he stated it bluntly, in a firm voice: "Lucina, I am in love with Robin. I loved you as well but it was never quite the same. I harbor no regrets about you. I . . . I hope you do not take offense at hearing that."

"No offense at all." As she looked at him, backlit by the receding sunlight, a little smile made its way to her face, in spite of everything. "I'm glad that we both found people to love."

His answering smile carried a bright warmth that surely put her own to shame. "And I am glad that we continue to look out for each other, as friends and allies."

The end of the day was approaching speedily. Before they parted ways for the night, Laurent told her congratulations again for her engagement. He and Robin wished for the pair's happiness.

"You _and_ Robin?"

"Of course. She is like me. Both of us only want whatever makes our son happy."

So Robin had decided to give her approval after all. The tactician hadn't mentioned it. Then, she may have guessed that Lucina would find out anyway, through her husband, the messenger.

"Listen," Lucina requested.

"Yes?"

She was still reeling from all the surprises of their talk, his confession chief among them. He continued to wear the comfortable smile of a man at ease, so remarkable for someone who'd braved a ruined future world. The sight reminded her of all the love he'd encountered in his life, both hidden and unhidden, expected and unexpected. Her eyes were pulled into the light, making her see that Laurent was tied to her more strongly than she ever knew. Even if his love for her had eventually faded under a new love for Robin, memories of how he felt in the past would always remain. To this day he was still fond of her.

Everyone was like that, weren't they? All her companions were closer to her than she would ever truly understand. They were going to be affected in ways that she would never see, once she disappeared. Her heart beat fast. The sound of ocean's waves crashed inside her ears. Through the whirlwind in her mind, she tried to imagine moments of the future, attempting to predict what would become of everyone, but that place showed only dark clouds. She could not know this future. She could not feel any part of it, besides the singular personality that weighed in her soul more than any other.

And so she told Laurent the only fact that she knew for sure: "I promise Morgan will be happy with me. I will make it happen."

END


End file.
